


Basic Math

by themuslimbarbie



Category: Marvel, The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuslimbarbie/pseuds/themuslimbarbie
Summary: Clarice is pretty sure there was something there before Sonya did her whole smoky-invasion-of-the-mind thing.





	Basic Math

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: A character in this story will have a panic attack.

Clarice’s foster parents were kind of old fashion.

Okay, no, wait. Scratch that.

They were the definition of old fashioned.

You see, Carl and Denise didn’t like loud noises, tight clothing, kids wandering off where they weren’t allowed. Or, you know, fun. Basically anything a teenager might like was off-limits. They believed the rules were there for a reason and they were pretty strict about theirs.

But they cared – like, _a lot_ – which is more than Clarice can say for most people she’s met, especially non-mutants. Sometimes she they cared a little too much, especially when it came to stupid things like schoolwork.

Carl had been a math teacher back in the day and, even after retirement, he took that way too seriously. Clarice remembers thinking it suited him: math was boring, structured, rigid – all those annoying things Carl loved so much. And he loved to push that onto the kids, especially Clarice. Which really sucked because she hated school. It was hard and boring and knowing why Romeo and Juliet died sure as hell wasn’t going to help a person who looked like her in the real world.

But it was a requirement to stay at their house, and taking classes in a safe place was a hell of a lot better than not taking classes on the streets. So she did what she had to and, after a little while, found that she didn’t always hate school.

Especially because sometimes when they did well on test, Denise would drive down to the market and come back with a couple of boxes of donuts. She always made sure to leave early so she could get the good stuff – the gooey ones with the jelly center. And even though the market wasn’t exactly close, they would somehow still be warm by the time she made it back. Then all the kids would gather around the kitchen counter and hope they got the highest scores so they could have first pick at the donuts.

Sometimes Clarice would even study just so it could be her.

Of course that all went out the window when she decided that she needed to get out because she thought being trapped on a farmhouse had to be the worst possible option. And she never saw them after she left the house. Sure, she called them a few times to let them know she was safe, wished them happy birthday and stuff like that, but even that faded. Then she was left with not much more than the memory of a donut and some math equations.

Memories that come flooding back when the Strucker Mom ropes Clarice into her Crusade to Give These Kids Some Normalcy.

“I didn’t know you like math,” John says when he finds out. “It suits you.”

She raises a brow. “Wow, you really know how to insult a girl.”

He smiles. “I meant it as a compliment,” he says as if that’s the part that needs explaining. “It’s straightforward. Cut and dry.”

 _There’s no bullshit_ , he means.

Which, okay, fair, does sound like her.

So this is the part where she’s supposed to take the weird but strangely thoughtful compliment. Maybe give him the very basic, very boring backstory about why she likes it. And she should. She wants to. She genuinely means to.

Except she’s a little caught up on whether or not it’s weird that the person she’s with didn’t know something so basic about her.

She almost asks him if he thinks so, but then Marcos pops up and tells him there’s a truck full of supplies out front and they could use his help. And then, with nothing more than a gentle squeeze of her arm, he’s gone and Clarice is left standing there, telling herself it’s totally not weird.

 

 

Okay, it’s a little weird.

Not because sitting around a kitchen counter and doing fractions with Carl was a particularly fundamental part of Clarice’s life or anything like that. It's mostly weird because it’s something that she's always shared with the people she been with. It’s one of those stupid little things that just comes up when you first start dating someone.

Which, come to think of it, is probably why it never came up. Because that would mean she and John would have actually did anything even _resembling_ dating before diving head first into this weirdly intense relationship they have now.

Actually, their relationship isn’t weird. Weird is Marcos being recruited from the cartel and falling in love with Lorna. Weird is the Lauren falling for someone her father probably would have prosecuted a year ago. Hell, weird was even John and Sonya not knowing whether or not to be together when they were both leaders at their Station.

But Clarice and John building a whole relationship based on feelings his ex’s forced onto Clarice without her knowledge or consent? That’s a _whole_ other level beyond weird.

Okay, that’s not entirely fair. Because here's the thing: Clarice is pretty sure there was something there before Sonya did her whole smoky-invasion-of-the-mind thing.

Yeah, sure, it gets a little fuzzy – what with this random memory stuffed in there and all – but she remembers some of the little things. Like how his voice had this annoyingly calming effect on her, or how his hand felt against the small of her back, or even how she checked to see if he was smiling when she said something particularly funny.

Oh, and she _definitely_ remembers thinking he was hot the first time he came around the corner wearing a tight tank top that was half wet from the rain.

You know, the important stuff.

And, yeah, okay, it wasn’t an epic make out session in the rain or any sort of gooey romantic fairytale to write home about, but she thinks that's kind of the point: it wasn't a fairytale.

It was _real._

At least she thinks it was.

John thinks so too, so there’s that for whatever it's worth.

He promises he saw something there in the beginning too. Nothing big or fancy, but little moments that almost seemed to mean something – the way she joked with him, the way she looked at him, the little ways she sometimes touched him. John says he just didn't do anything about it because it was still early and they were still getting to know each other and his relationship with Sonya was still a little more than complicated and all these other _still_ excuses he has.

Not that any of his reasons really matter that much. At the end of the day, he's _still_ John and he was _still_ never going to make the first move. He's a reactor, not an actor. Besides, standing around and waiting for someone else to make the move better fits the whole “strong, silent, respectful” thing he’s got going on.

Which is a total side note to her larger point being that, between the two of them, they're like ninety-five percent certain that she had a thing for John before Sonya did her thing. Which is some a-plus level shit that would definitely get Clarice any donut she wanted, and that is a hell of a lot better than any other relationship she's had.

So, like, good for them.

They're not as fucked up as they could be.

 

 

_I’m not going to worry about why I feel what I feel. It doesn’t really matter now._

That was a real easy thing to say when the world was going to hell and it suddenly felt like she was losing what little stability she’d gained since she walked into this building. It was an especially easy thing to say when the person who quite literally forced her to have said feelings was actually starting to become Clarice’s friend.

And then, you know, was point blank murdered in front of her.

Even without that last traumatic footnote, it just is the easier thing to say. To decide. Because, look, what Sonya did was wrong. Clarice knows it. John knows it. Even Sonya, for all her defenses about wanting to save the team (read: save _Johnny_ ), knew it. Because at the end of the day, that’s all it is: _wrong_.

But… Sonya gave her more than a memory – she gave her feelings. A lot of feelings. Some pretty hot feelings that made it a little difficult to sleep at night. Some romantic feelings that made it a little awkward to be around John and a little more than hard to be away from him. Feelings of being in love. Of _being_ loved. Being wanted. Wanting. Belonging.

Sonya gave her all these feelings of safety and stability that weren’t necessarily new to Clarice but weren’t exactly a common theme in her life. And definitely not this intensity level.

Because the thing about having those ( _these?_ ) kinds of feelings is that they are powerful. Way more powerful than all of her fears combined. Which makes sense because that’s what John was trying to teach her before all of this happened – to hold onto something other than just herself. Because that’s where the real power comes from: others.

When Sonya did this thing to her, Clarice's abilities stopped being about bailing out of bad situations and became about protecting other people. That’s when it got so much bigger than anything she could have ever imagined.

So, yeah, it’s a hell of a lot easier for Clarice if she just stops focusing on _why_ she feels the way she feels and just lets herself _feel_ it. Because feeling it gives her powers. Gives her stability. Gives her a home. Gives her love with someone who is actually falling for her too.

Pause.

She wants to take a moment to focus in on that last bit. Specifically the part about her _._ As in Clarice. Dry, sarcastic, probably too stubborn Clarice Fong. That's who John says he wants to be with – her. And he says he wants it _because_ she's her, not because she's the girl with the feelings and a memory of his ex. Which is great. Fantastic. That's the kind of shit (some messed up) fairy tales are made of. Because that's what she wants.

Or at least she thinks she does.

It's not like she has the choice to have it otherwise now. She can't just hold on to these feelings for the time being and then let it go later on, down the line when she finds something else to focus on. Something else ( _someone else_?) to love. The time for that is over because Sonya can't just undo what she's done now that she's dead. Because Clarice let that option go so she could hold onto her stability, to the control over her powers, to her ability to protect people.

But if she hadn't, would they still be here? She thinks so. But maybe they wouldn't. And that's… it's...

Forget it.

Doesn't matter.

_Does it?_

 

 

Some days Clarice thinks it doesn’t matter because some days she doesn't even think about Sonya’s memory. It's still there, somewhere in the distant depths of her mind, like a raunchy soap-opera or a weird fantasy she once had, but it isn't in the forefront. It doesn’t keep popping up in her mind every ten minutes. It isn't what she thinks about when she runs into battle or uses her abilities. And it definitely isn't what she thinks about when she's alone with John, making better memories.

 _Much_ better memories.

“When you said we had the night to ourselves, I was kind of picturing something a little different,” Clarice complains as they climb up some monstrous sized hill. “You know, something a little more indoors. With fewer bugs. Less clothing…”

“So that's all you want from me?”

“Uh, _yeah_. Don't tell me you're just now figuring that out.”

He chuckles and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and Clarice thinks it really isn't fair how he can do that whole effortlessly beautiful thing he does. How the hell did she even end up with a guy prettier than her? That's just ridiculous.

He doesn't give her a chance to complain though, because he holds out his hand and tells her they're almost there. She fakes a dramatic sigh but takes his hand, though she makes sure to wait until he’s turned back around before she smiles. Which doesn’t really seem to matter because he squeezes her hand once, gently, like he can just _tell_ without even looking at her. And it’s annoyingly sweet, she thinks, how he can just know that about her. Especially when it makes her feel like smiling even more.

There’s nothing special waiting for them at the top of the hill other than some grass and rocks and other basic hill stuff. Not that John notices, because he’s too busy searching the skies. After a minute, he smiles and points at something she doesn't see. A few seconds later, she sees the flicker of something across the sky. And then another, and another, and another. A freaking meteor shower, she realizes.

Holy _crap_ , it's beautiful.

She thinks she hears John smiling. Without letting go of her hand, he sits down on the ground, lightly pulling her along with him, and asks if this makes up for the outdoors and the bugs. She stretches her legs out in front of her and reminds him that he still has to make up for the part where they're wearing clothes.

He smirks and leans in. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. Pauses. And then, just before she can say anything, reaches his free hand up points past her head at another meteor.

 _Careful_ , he says almost playfully, she'll miss out if she doesn't pay attention.

Yeah, she's pretty sure they've already established that she's missing out on something.

Still, she smiles a little and squeezes his hand before she turns to where he pointed.

 

 

Basic math:

_100% - 95% = 5%_

_5% < 95%_

_When rounding to the nearest tenth, round the largest number up accordingly._

_Therefore, 95% approximately rounds up to 100%._

_Therefore, 5% approximately rounds down to 0%._

Therefore, it’s fine and she needs to stop dwelling on this.

 

 

It’s quiet the first time John says it, which is a weird thing to focus on, but it’s true. She thinks maybe that’s why it surprises her so much – there’s no drama, no big battles in play, no life-or-death scares. There’s just the two of them, reviewing their supply counts in the office. And in the middle of the peace and quiet, he just looks at her with these ridiculous eyes and says,

“I love you, Clarice.”

And it’s like… You know that feeling you get when you’ve been wanting something for so long that it almost becomes normal? Like, you just go through life with this craving, never really sure if it’s going to be satisfied, until it becomes a part of you?

Yeah, that feeling sucks. This one’s way better.

It's almost like that first bite of a warm jelly donut. You know, when all the gooey good stuff hits you and you just know that you’ve reached another level of inner peace. That there has to be some kind of God out there because this feels like it was destined to touch your lips. Only this tastes way sweeter and more satisfying than she could have ever imagined.

“Clarice…” he says slowly when she doesn't respond.

His hair is in his face, she realizes. Only he's too busy looking at her to care about his messed up ponytail. So she reaches forward and tucks it back behind his ear. Her fingers linger on his face and her thumb brushes over his cheek. He catches her hand just as she begins to pull back and, softly, kisses the inside of wrist.

Yeah, that warm feeling she mentioned? Suddenly it feels a bit like a fire inside of her.

“You love me?” she asks even though she knows she doesn't need an answer. He nods. Clarice grins and kisses him, long and sweet. And, after, when they stand there with their noses smushed and their breaths mixed together, she asks, “What took you so long?”

John smirks and kisses her again.

So, yeah, some days Clarice is _definitely_ sure they're good.

 

 

There are other times when that's not even remotely the case.

They once warned her that Sonya’s effect could change overtime because things are always tricky when it comes to people’s minds. Most of the time they saw Sonya do something like this, it was to take someone’s memories away. Maybe change up something small here or there. They rarely had a need to _add_ memories to someone’s mind. But if the two were even slightly similar at all then the lingering side effects would eventually, maybe not disappear, but at least de-intensify. Probably not all at once – just gradually, over time, until it really would be just a distant memory.

And maybe it's on her for just going with it, but Clarice honestly just started assuming that would happen. Because even with all of the feelings attached to it, there is no reason to think one small memory Sonya had could really overpower everything Clarice and John have now. All of these amazing and _real_ memories Clarice has now. And, most of the time, that’s the case. But not always.

Turns out Carl was onto something when he taught her that subtraction is easier than addition.

 

 

In the beginning, it almost made sense for the memory to be so overwhelming because being with John wasn't something she had ever experienced. She only barely knew him when Sonya did her thing and Clarice’s feelings weren't anything more than maybe the beginnings of a crush. So Sonya's memory and her feelings felt like Clarice's because they were all she had. And that made sense. Back then.

But things changed after she and John got together, because now she has her own very real feelings and memories that are as far removed from Sonya as they can possibly be. Memories and feelings that are Clarice’s. Fully and completely and one-hundred percent hers, and so different from what she feels when she remembers Sonya's feelings.

Because, you see, at some point Clarice she started to notice the difference between the memory and reality. The way Sonya cupped his face. The way she kissed him. The way she held him. They're all so vividly distinct from the way Clarice does things that she sometimes wonder how she could have even fell for Sonya’s power. Because the more Clarice thinks about it, the more it becomes so clear that it could have never been Clarice with him that night because every little thing about it just wasn’t her. It was Sonya, through and through.

The day Clarice realized she could separate the two was the day she thought her relationship was finally free. That _she_ was finally free. Because what was Sonya's was Sonya's, and what's Clarice's is Clarice's. Including her relationship with John.

Except that's not the case at all.

Because here's the thing, Clarice and Sonya are literally as opposite as it gets, but that doesn't mean Sonya's memories stop coming. Doesn't mean Clarice can suddenly take charge and change it to how she would have done things that night. Doesn't mean she suddenly stops seeing herself as Sonya when it happens. It doesn't mean shit because she's still stuck in someone else's place with no control whatsoever.

And by no control whatsoever, she means no freaking control whatsoever. Especially not over when the memories come. Because sometimes things will be fine. Sometimes Clarice will be one-hundred percent in control of her feelings. And then something will happen – she'll hear the rain falling or he’ll wear a grey shirt or something random and small and stupid will happen – and then, suddenly, she’ll be right back to that night.

Right back to being Sonya.

To being not Clarice.

And being near John on those days when all set sees, all she feels, is something that isn’t her? Not exactly easy.

 

 

Sometimes Clarice is too eager to volunteer to go on away missions.

Between rescuing refugees and picking up supplies, there aren’t exactly any shortages of missions. And with all the people who left them for the Hellfire Club, there aren’t many others available to go. Especially John if he’s not needed. Which he usually isn’t since they’re simple missions that don’t really involve tracking, and there’s a lot of important stuff for him to do at their base. So he stays and she goes and it’s not weird at all. It makes the most sense this way.

It’s just an added bonus that it gives her some space, a moment of breath air away from everything. Which sometimes includes him.

 

 

Strucker Mom has this thing about not letting the mutant life – because apparently that’s what she considers all of this, The Mutant Life – get in the way of what little normalcy the kids there have. She doesn’t think it’s right that their education be impacted by things like their teachers needing to travel one city over to pick up food for the month. So she sets up a substitute teacher plan for when someone has to leave for the day. Usually that just means Marcos filling in for Clarice.

The only problem is Norah, who refuses to take a math class from anyone who isn’t Clarice. Because she says that Marcos teaches it wrong, but Clarice teaches it right. Like how Carl used to teach it.

Which is pretty much all Clarice needs to hear to realize that she’s really about to set aside time she barely has just to make sure that Norah understands long division.

Of course that’s assuming Norah is actually trying to learn and not just coming up with excuses to just hang out with Clarice and not do her work.

Norah scrunches her mouth together. She looks down at her homework, back up at Clarice, back down, and back up again. It’s just as Clarice is about to tell her to stop procrastinating that Norah grins mischievously and asks,

“Do you miss John when you’re gone?”

Except the little brat times it exactly as Clarice is taking a sip of her shitty coffee so she chokes. Which Norah, _of course_ , finds hilarious and doesn’t try to hide it.

“ _Not_ cool,” Clarice grumbles when she catches her breath.

Norah disagrees, of course, and laughs when Clarice reaches over to try ruffle her hair in revenge. But it’s not enough of a distraction. “Well,” she asks impatiently, like Clarice owes her a freaking answer or something. “Do you?”

“Nope,” Clarice says, dumping her coffee into one of the weird plants Strucker Mom thought was a good idea to use as decoration or something. Because having a plant in the building is going to make anything about this place feel normal. “John’s weird. He’s too serious and his hair’s funny and he snores at night. Getting away from him is great.”

“Liar,” Norah says with a grin.

This time Clarice does ruffle her hair. Norah yelps in protest and bats Clarice’s hand away and tries to fix the mess she made. Clarice grins and sits back down at the table.

“Okay, no more fun stuff – it’s time to get back to work. Those numbers aren’t going to divide themselves,” she says faux-seriously. Norah wrinkles her nose, realizing that Clarice really isn’t going to be distracted anymore. She sighs dramatically and gets back to work. Still, Clarice smiles. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I missed _you_.”

Norah smiles brightly. “Good,” she says, waving her pencil at Clarice. “Because I missed you too. More than John and his funny hair.”

Clarice laughs and tells Norah to get back to work.

 

 

_Definition:_

_Correlation – interdependence of variable quantities; a mutual relationship or connection between two or more things._

 

_Data:_

_On May 15 John wore a grey shirt. The affected time period was twenty minutes._

_On April 6 it rained outside their bedroom. The affected time period was twelve hours._

_On June 6 John kissed Clarice. The affected time period was six days._

 

_Problem:_

_Determine any and all correlations._

 

 

Sometimes the memory goes old-school on her and decides to pop up as a dream again. One that annoyingly wakes her up on those rare nights she even has the luxury of getting a full night’s sleep. And it’s never one of those dreams that just goes away once she wakes up. Of course not. It lingers there, haunting her thoughts, reappearing the moment she so much as blinks her eyes shut.

That night, when it happens, Clarice does what she’s always done – goes back to that habit she pretends she broke when she joined the Underground and uses her powers to bail out of the bad situation.

Figuratively.

Well, and kind of literally, too.

She trains.

She goes outside and practices making as many portals as she can possibly imagine. Because here’s the thing about training, about using her powers: she needs to think. Calculate the approximate distances between spaces and the angle she wants the portals to project out. She needs to concentrate on the math. And in order to do that, to summon her portals, she needs to feel. And boy does she have a lot of feelings.

Happy feelings. Sweet feelings. Loved feelings. Feelings that aren’t even hers to be feeling. Feelings that cannot be anything but hers: Anger. Frustration. Confusion.

Helplessness.

Feelings she can't avoid but doesn’t particularly want to think about.

So she doesn’t.

 

 

John’s voice sounds distant when he finds her nearly an hour later.

She barely registers her own voice when she tells him that she couldn't sleep. She’s too focused on the distance between her and the inside of the van on the other side of the lot.

 _Again? This is the fifth time this month_ , he says.

There’s more to it than that, because there’s no way John just drops it like that – _acting distant, not sleeping at night, volunteering for every away mission. What is happening?_ – but she doesn’t really comprehend it. She’s too distracted. Because she needs to get this rock into the passenger seat of that van or she’s going to lose her freakin’ mind.

Two hundred or so feet. Ninety-three degrees outbound with a seventy-seven degree portal inbound. No, seventy. Seventy-four? Seventy-eight? Christ, why couldn’t this mutation come with a calculator mind like Sage’s. Maybe seventy-five? That seems okay.

“Talk to me,” he says, his hand brushing against the top of her shoulder.

Then, just like that, she’s back to that night. She’s standing in the rain wearing that strappy top she’s never seen before, smiling in that way she never actually smiled. Holding John’s face in a way she’s never held him before. Doing all these things she knows she's never actually done, because it’s not actually her. It was never her.

Just like that, it’s Sonya standing there.

And Clarice is gone.

 

 

His hand brush against the small of her back, his fingers slip under her blouse. Her lips graze his neck, the edges of his hair tickling her nose.

Her breath hitches. She gets a whiff of a perfume. Her perfume.

Is it? She doesn’t know it.

_Clarice..._

The air is hot, humid. It’s hard to breathe. It’s summer.

She met John in October. Why is it hot?

It’s so hot. She can’t breathe.

She can't breathe.

 _Clarice_.

Why can’t she breathe?!

 

 

“ _Clarice_!”

She gasps.

 

 

“Clarice, it’s okay. It’s okay, Clarice. I have you. Clarice, can you hear me?”

She thinks she hears him. Feels hands gently gripping her shoulders, holding her in place. Grounding her. Her. Clarice. Not Sonya. Her.

Clarice, Clarice, _Clarice_.

“Clarice?”

She forces herself to nod. “Yeah. I hear you.”

“Okay, good. I need you to listen to me, Clarice. You need to breathe. In – one, two, three. Out – one, two, three. Just like a pattern in one of your no bullshit math problems, okay Clarice? In. Out. In. Out.” He repeats over and over again until her breath becomes almost manageable again. But, even then, he doesn't let her go.

Part of her knows that she needs to back away because one wrong move and she'll be back to square, but she doesn't. He's the reminder of what’s happening to her, but he's also the only thing grounding her right now. Reminding her who she is. So she leans forward and buries her head in his shoulder. John instantly wraps his arms around her and holds onto her like he's afraid she's going to slip away any second.

Her throat feels rough, scratchy, almost like she's been screaming (or crying?) but she doesn't recall doing that. She presses her lips and then remembers, “Did I teleport?”

There's a beat.

“Yes,” he says almost hesitantly. “You closed the portal before I could jump through.”

She was trying to escape from the memory, she realizes. From him.

She knows she shouldn't but she feels guilty. But not enough to confess that to him, so instead, she asks, “Where are we?”

“On a hill. The one where we saw the meteor shower.”

“Oh,” she says. And then with a small, forced smile adds, “Well, at least my subconscious picked somewhere romantic this time.”

He doesn’t buy the distraction, though he does seem slightly relieved to hear her joking. “Clarice, what happened?” he asks. His thumb rubs small circles in the middle of her back and she tries really hard to focus on the way his hands feel on her. On how real that feeling is. “Talk to me.”

She hesitates before she admits, “I'm… broken.” And before he can respond, she says, “Not my powers, John. Me.”

She pulls back just enough that she can look at him. When she does, her vision is blurring again but she can't even manage the strength to blink back the tears and hide her weakness. It's only then that she realizes just how tired she is.

“ _I'm_ broken.”

 

 

John’s theory is that it works like post-traumatic stress. He has a long explanation for how it happened and what it means, but the gist of it comes down to the fact that she experienced something that her brain can’t process. Something that maybe she had been able to process for a while, but can't now because circumstances changed.

In regular people terms: her mind is on freaking overdrive because it doesn’t know what to do with Sonya’s fake memory now that it doesn’t jive with her real relationship with John. So it keeps going over it over and over and over to try to figure out how to deal with it. Trying to take her back to that night and figure out if she's Clarice or Sonya.

Christ, at least when she struggled with a math problem as a kid there was a donut at the end of it all.

“So how do I make it stop?” she asks, her fingers toying with a blade of grass. “And please spare me the whole spiel about how it’s a long and complicated process.”

He frowns. “It _is_ a long and complicated process, Clarice,” he says. Then sighs and says, “But usually the first step is to see if there is some sort of common factor that causes your stress. If you remove that then there is a chance it will help.”

She doesn’t need to stop and think about it. She’s already done all the work. And even if she hadn't, the answer is pretty damn clear. And the answer is the exact reason why she hesitates.

“So what,” she says, closing her eyes and taking a breath, “If the common factor is you?”

John doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t really need to.

 

 

They don’t call it a break up so much as a break. A chance for Clarice to take a breath away from everything that could be triggering the memory.

You know, things like having a relationship with John, being near John, sharing a room with John. Just John in general. It's a way for Clarice to take an overall general break from John.

It’s totally a breakup.

 

 

Clarice has things to do. Very Important, Serious Leader Things to do. Like making sure their station has enough supplies, and plotting passages to take refugees down to Mexico, and trying to figure out how the frick they’re going to pay for all of these things. These are Important. Between teaching her classes and these Very Serious Things, she doesn’t really have any free time.

Which is why she’s wondering how the hell she got roped into helping Norah with her chores. Particularly the chore that involves bathing a very muddy Zingo who is definitely not interested in taking a bath. And she’s definitely not sure how she got roped into doing this when Marcos finds them as they're hosing Zingo down because apparently Strucker Mom is looking for Norah because she’s supposed to be in English class.

Norah, the sneaky little brat, grins when she oh-so-conveniently _remembers_ that she has a test today, which means she needs to run and can’t bathe Zingo. But since they’ve already started, Clarice can finish for her, right?

She’s gone before Clarice can even get the _hell_ out of her _hell no_ out.

“I don’t know why you’re grinning like that,” Clarice says, tossing the bottle of soap at Marcos. “This is a two person job. Which means you’re up, Sunshine. Unless you’d rather I let Zingo clean herself off in your room.”

Marcos glares. “Not funny,” he says. But rolls up his sleeves before he crouches down to their level and pours out a handful of soap.

A comfortable silence falls between them as they work. Not that there's much else when it comes Marcos nowadays. Maybe once upon a time there was something else, something more full of life. Something happier. But that's not him anymore, at least not since the divide. Since Lorna left.

Some of the others say that day made him weaker, but they're wrong. If anything, Clarice thinks it made him stronger. Because now he has to be strong enough to live without Lorna.

But he is different. Quieter. Softer. Lonelier.

Sometimes it hurts just seeing him like this.

“John called,” Marcos says slowly. And even though his eyes are on Zingo, Clarice doesn’t doubt for a second that he’s actually watching her, trying to read her for any sort of reaction. She does her damned best not to give him one. “They were able to pick up the supplies without problems. They’ll be back tonight.”

“Good. Hopefully there’s more than canned beets this time. There’s only so much of that I can take.”

He snorts, but smiles and nods. After a beat, he adds, “I’m surprised you didn’t go with John,” Marcos says almost a little too casually. “Come to think of it, you guys haven’t been going on many missions together lately…”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't have all day, Sunshine. Just spit out what you really want to say.”

He hesitates for half a second before he sighs. “John’s a good guy, Clarice. I don't know what's going with you two right now, but he loves you. He's not always good at showing things like that or even prioritizing them as much as he should, but he really loves you.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes shit’s more complicated than that.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes shit gets complicated,” Marcos says and for a second Clarice thinks he looks broken. But he shakes his head before she can say anything. “It’s going to be complicated no matter what. Is there a reason it can't be complicated with you guys together?”

 _Yes_ , she wants to say. There is _absolutely_ a reason why it can't be complicated together because _together_ is the whole damn reason why it's complicated. So maybe Marcos should just _back the hell off_ and stop _projecting_ his own messed up relationship problems onto her and her messed up relationship with John. Because this isn’t anything like what Marcos thinks he knows.

She doesn’t say any of it though. Just stands there looking like a moron until Marcos pats Zingo dry and tells her to think about it before he walks away. And she knows she should tell him she won’t because she doesn’t _need_ to think about it because it’s not as simple as he thinks it is.

But she wishes it was.

Maybe even enough to convince herself that it can be.

 

 

“I love you, Clarice,” John says when she decides to talk to him about it.

 _I love you_ , the words echo softly in her ears and she almost envies the way he says it – _I love you_ – so gently but still so confident and sure. Without any hesitation or doubt. She's always envied that about him. How, despite his Serious Leader Moments, despite all the pain and loss he's been through, he's never been afraid to care about people. Sure, he kind of sucks at knowing how to show it sometimes, but he's never been scared to let himself _feel_ it. To trust those feelings. He's definitely the touchy-feely one between them, the affectionate one. The romantic one.

She isn't sure if that’s supposed to say something about him or her or their relationship.

“Of course _I_ want to be with you,” he continues. “But I also don't want you to suffer because of me.”

 _Yeah, too little too late for that one, buddy_.

She doesn't say it though, partially because she knows that would actually hurt his feelings and partially because she knows this thing happening to her isn't really on him. He’s doing what he can try to make it better. It's not his fault that this stupid plan they stupidly came up with doesn’t work most of the stupid time. (Probably because – big surprise! – it's stupid.)

Still, it's not like she can really hide the truth from him.  At least not with something like that this. Because she's suffering with or without him. It's not like she doesn't still see him every damn day.

“It's not always like that,” she explains. “I’d almost rather it was because then it'd be a hell of a lot easier. But it's not. It’s almost… sporadic, I guess? It doesn't happen every time I see you or kiss you or whatever. And other things can make it happen. Stupid stuff. Sometimes no stuff. It’s...” She shakes her head and groans. “This isn't making any sense.”

“Yeah, it is, actually. I get it.”

Right. Marines. Two tours.

Plenty of experience with PTSD.

John frowns and she thinks she can actually see him assessing everything. “So that I’m clear,” he says after a beat, “Being with me can trigger the flashbacks, but not being with me can also do it?”

“Pretty much,” she says, sitting down at the edge of the desk. “So what are we going to do now? Where do we go from here?”

He shakes his head, almost as if he’s rejecting her question altogether. “You tell me, Clarice. What do _you_ want to do?” he asks.

Which, frankly, surprises the crap out of her because John is always the decision guy. The one who tells people the best course of action, or at least confirms what they want to do. It comes with the whole leader thing. And the whole being John Proudstar thing, frankly.

She wonders if saying that is hard for him – not having the power to make the decisions. Giving up his chance to make the calls. Letting someone else take control. Because taking charge is like second nature to him and a part of her doesn’t know who he is if he isn’t leading people, telling them the best course of action.

Except maybe she does, because that’s exactly what he’s doing now with her – putting her in charge. Letting her control his actions.

It’s… a lot.

“Honestly? Right now I just want to go to bed,” she says, half sarcastically. He almost smiles, but the seriousness of the situation wins out in the end. She sighs and, after a beat, says, “I don’t know. Can we try just not having a plan? Take it day by day?”

John presses his lips together and Clarice knows it's a stupid suggestion because they need an actual game plan. They can't walk into situations blind. They have to at least have some kind of idea about what they're getting into and how they're going to handle it. It's the safe way to do things.

“Okay,” he says. “We'll do that then. Day by day.”

She stares at him for a beat and then another. “Wait. _Seriously_?”

This time he does smile a little. He stands and moves so that he's in front of her, only an arm’s length away. “Seriously,” he says. “It makes sense. If things are different for you day by day then obviously our relationship will be too. There's no point in pretending everything will be the same every day. Besides,” he adds softly, “I said we'd do what you want and if you want to take it day by day then that's what we do. It's about what makes _you_ comfortable, Clarice. That's all that matters.”

And for a second she thinks he'll move in and close the space between them, but he doesn't. Which is annoying because space is definitely not a thing she wants between them in that moment. But she suspects that maybe it's supposed to mean something that he's keeping his distance just in case she isn't ready for his touch.

Kind of like how it means something that he's willing to go along with her ridiculous not-plan and take the uncertainty just to be with her for at least a little while longer.

He really loves her.

“For the record,” she says as she reaches out and tugs at the edges of his vest, nudging him closer to her. “Overall, it really _sucked_ being away from you.”

He smiles and steps forward, happily taking her permission to close the space between them. Still, his hand brushing against her waist so gently she barely feels it, which shouldn't do anything but somehow makes her shudder in the best kind of way.

“I missed you too, Clarice.”

And at the risk of sounding all gross and sentimental, when she kisses him, her fingers in his hair and his arms around her, it feels a bit like coming home.

 

 

_Definition:_

_Couple: a pair; the combination of two individual factors._

_Example: 1 + 1 = 2_

 

 

Things kind of change after that. John changes after that. It’s nothing big or dramatic – he’s still John, after all – but there’s definitely a change. She thinks it’s the little things.

Like how, okay, he's always been the touchy-feely one between them, right? But suddenly he's always finding a way to touch her no matter where they are. Sometimes it's his hand on her back, sometimes it's brushing his arm against hers, sometimes it's even something as simple as his knee against her leg when they sit down. Any sort of physicality that reminds her he’s there and she’s there and they’re there together.

Or how he starts saying her name all the time. Like, to a ridiculous level. Every other sentence he says to her includes her name. Like it's supposed to serve as some sort of reminder of who he sees when he's with her, who he sees, who he wants to be with.

Or how she comes back to their room one evening and finds a few flat rocks on their nightstand. _Stones_ , he explains, that he brought down from that hill they saw the meteor shower at. Stones to remind her of the place where she feels safe. Of her burrow.

How he does anything to remind her that he's there for her. That he isn't going anywhere. That he loves her.

It's how he will do anything he can to remind her that she's Clarice, not Sonya.

There probably isn't anyone who can fully understand what Clarice went through – what she still goes through – but she thinks that maybe he’s the closest. Because he may not have this thing replaying in his mind, but he knows a thing or two about what it's like to not be able to escape a memory. What it's like to be haunted by something.

There are nights when he wakes up, breath heavy and fists tight, that she thinks John probably knows a little too well.

His family, the Marines, Headquarters.

Pulse, Sonya, Lorna.

John is always losing.

From the get go, she saw how protective he is. Anyone could, she thinks. It was so obvious in the way he walked around the Underground, the way he reacted to Marcos taking off, to Lorna missing.

It took her awhile to realize that he isn't protective just because he cares, though that’s definitely part of it. But also, he's protective because he's scared of losing anyone else. Because if he can protect them, shield them from the danger, if he can just hold onto them tight enough, then maybe another person he loves won’t slip through his fingers.

And Clarice… Clarice has always run. Always been the person who slips away before she can get close enough to get hurt. To feel like she’s lost something worth holding onto. Growing up, it didn’t take her long to realize it’s easier that way, safer that way. But the thing about running is that it’s exhausting, and she’s just so _tired_.

John needs someone to hold onto. Clarice needs someone who will hold onto her.

Which is great. Freaking perfect. Because they can balance each other out. Be what the other one needs. Be the other piece of the puzzle that just fits so conveniently even though the edges are worn out and ragged and bent up. Again, it's the sort of stuff the really messed up fairytales are made of.

But, sometimes she thinks that this thing only works – that _they_ only work – because they’ve both lost too much already. And, sometimes, despite knowing should just accept one of the only good (albeit complicated) things in her life and _let it be_ , Clarice can't help but wonder if he does the things he does to protect her or to protect himself from losing her.

 

 

_Problem:_

_1 + 1 =|= 3_

_1 + 1 + 1 =|= 2_

_The sum of the parts must be equal to the whole in order to balance the equation._

 

 

Things also kind of don’t change at all. Because she doesn’t change. And neither does the memory.

_Clarice, I love you._

He reaches forward to touch her, but his fingers stop just short of grazing against her arm. She hates that she doesn’t know if she’s more relieved or disappointed.

What she does know: he does love her. She can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Hell, she thinks she can even feel it in the way he _breathes_. Because he loves her so much that it hurts. But that isn't enough. At least not today.

_Today Sonya loves you more than me._

He doesn’t stop her when she leaves.

 

 

Clarice is a fighter – you don't survive looking the way she does without being the kind of person willing to fight. It's something she and John almost have in common because he a fighter too, which anyone who knows him for more than thirty seconds can see. But he doesn’t fight the way she used to – he fights to protect people, to take care of his people. And she’s pretty sure there’s nothing more “his people” than the person he’s fallen in love with.

So she knows he has to want to fight her on this and sometimes she thinks he that will. That he’ll grab her hand, pull her close to him, and remind her that he loves her and she loves him. The _how_ and sometimes the _why_ about it are complicated and messy, but at the end of the day, their feelings _are_ real. And with the world falling apart around them, she expects him to tell her some mumbo-jumbo about how love is all they have.

He never does though, because he has no right to fight her. Not when it comes to this.

 

 

_Solution:_

_Unknown._

 

 

Sometimes she thinks walking away is easier knowing that it won’t be long until she comes back. Because the fake flashbacks can hit her at the drop of a hat, but they can disappear just as quickly. It’s this messed up cycle, this up-and-down yoyo they have going on, where Clarice leaves to come back to leave to come back. It’s the same thing _over_ and _over_ again.

John says it doesn’t matter as long as she comes back. Which she always does.

She just isn’t sure if that’s because she’s stronger or weaker than what Sonya did to her.

 

 

 _Add a negative,_ Norah says once when she finds Clarice doodling the unbalanced equation. _That way the three becomes two._

That’s not how math works, Clarice wants to tell her. You can’t just willy-nilly add something to only one side of an equation. It’s a balancing act. The whole point is that both sides need to be treated equally. Which is what makes the whole problem so freaking impossible to solve.

She almost says it too – she’s supposed to be teaching Norah how math works after all – but stops herself at the last second because maybe her little brat has a point. Because it’s never really been about the math. And life doesn’t play by the same rules. There’s no such thing as a truly balanced equation in the real world.

The solution could be to add a negative. To take something out.

Take someone out.

 

 

_Solution:_

_Subtract one part to balance the sum?_

_Adjust equation accordingly._

 

 

There’s a station in Dallas that needs help, she knows. Texas Sentinel Service Officers have gotten worse in the past couple of months, and more of their leaders have either been captured or voluntarily left. There’s so much they need. So much she could do for them. And so much being there could do for her.

 _Clarice_.

John’s voice sounds distant even from the doorway of the room. Her room. The room she shares with Lauren, sometimes, when sharing a space with John is too much.

He explains that Marcos got wind of a church wanting to make a donation. It's probably safe, but Marcos needs backup. John would go, but there's a few people coming in from the Chattanooga Station and he needs to be here when they arrive.

Can she go?

She stares down at her phone, the Dallas number ready to be dialed. After a beat, she takes a breath, closes the phone, and tells him that _yeah_ , of course.

 

 

The mission goes about the same as most of their missions – never as smooth as they want or plan for, but well enough that they get what they come for and make it out with only a few scrapes. What makes it unique isn’t that she goes through the motions knowing that this may be her last time doing this kind of thing with Marcos, but the early morning drive back to the station. Specifically the part of the drive where they pass by some hole in the wall shop that's just opening up.

Marcos looks at her like she’s lost her freaking mind when she tells him to pull over, because she _has_ to be kidding. They don’t have time for this. Not to mention god knows _who_ could be in there too.

A part of her wants to fight him – because he may have a point but it's not like that point doesn't apply to every moment of their lives off the station. They're always taking risks so why's this one such a big freaking deal? – but she doesn't. And maybe it's because she knows she has a long day in front of her, because she still has that Dallas call to make, because she still has to tell everyone what she's going to do. Because she still has to face John.

But mostly it's because Clarice is just so tired of fighting.

 _Marcos, please_.

He sighs and pulls into the parking lot.

 

 

She barely makes it through the front doors before she's all but tackled down. Norah laughs when Clarice feigns being winded by the hug and the sound echoes around them. Clarice grins and ruffles her hair. Norah groans and swats her hand away and declares that she changed her mind and absolutely did _not_ miss Clarice at all.

Clarice laughs and reached for Norah’s head again and tries _really_ hard not to focus on how John walks up and says that he should have known better than to tell Norah they were back in the middle of training. Marcos grins and opens the box in his hands and asks if John’s powers saw Clarice's surprise coming too.

John raises a brow and looks at Clarice and asks if those are what he thinks they are.

But she doesn't get the chance to reply because Norah grins brightly. “Jelly donuts! Are these like the ones Mama Dee used to get?”

Clarice thinks the only thing that could possibly be stronger than smell of the donuts, all warm and gooey courtesy of Marcos's hot hands, is that obnoxiously clichéd warm and gooey feeling that suddenly fills her core. Because suddenly the air feels light and a little sweet, and for a brief moment, Clarice looks down at Norah, standing in front of John as she picks the biggest donut out of the box Marcos holds, and thinks _this_ is _it_.

This is how a home is supposed to feel.

Clarice smiles. “Yup. Lauren said your whole class nailed your history test, so I thought you guys deserved a treat.”

Mouth stuffed with a donut, Norah says, “Thank you!”

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” John says, but smiles when Norah grins at him like a chipmunk or something with its cheeks all puffy. Still, he puts his hand on Norah's shoulder and reminds her that they still have a training session to finish.

Except she only makes it two steps before Clarice grabs Norah by the arm and gently tugs her back. “Hey,” Clarice whispers. “I missed you.”

Norah grins and hugs her. “Good, cause missed you too. More than funny hair.”

John looks between Norah and Clarice. “Funny hair?” he asks, somewhere between faux and real offended as Marcos laughs next to him.

Norah presses her lips together before she smiles a little bashfully. “Oops?”

Clarice pretends to glare for a second before she smirks. She playfully pushes Norah towards John and reminds her that _she's_ the one who has to go train with him now, not Clarice. Norah’s eyes widen and she looks to Marcos for help, who has pretty much nothing to offer her other than luck.

Clarice looks at John and winks.

He chuckles.

 _Yeah_ , she thinks, this is definitely how home is supposed to feel.

 

 

Clarice finds him in his office later, going over budget spreadsheets and this whole other mountain of paperwork. And she knows there's no way he doesn't notice her – the whole tracking superpowers thing makes it pretty much impossible to sneak up on the guy – but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't even look up. Just sits there, going over his papers, pretending that he isn't waiting to see what she'll do.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles as she walks in. “Hey,” she says, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Almost instinctively, he places his hand over hers as if he's scared she's going to slip away from him. She squeezes his shoulder gently and he relaxes under her touch.

“Hey,” he says back.

She nods at all the papers. “That looks like fun.”

He leans back in his chair. “Yeah, tons. You want in?”

She crinkles her nose. “You know, I'd love to but I have this thing I need to do…” she says vaguely. John snorts. She smiles. “Seriously though, I have some tests to grade. I just… thought I'd let you know that I'm, you know, home.”

He studies her for a moment longer than necessary before he smiles and squeezes her hand. “Welcome home then.”

“Thanks,” she says.

Their eyes meet just long enough for him to look at her in that way that makes her all warm and gooey and sweet and _happy_ on the inside. It only gets to last a beat though because he has paperwork to do and she really does have tests to grade.

But he catches her hand just as she starts to slip away and gently tugs her back to him. He lifts her hand and kisses it softly.

“I love you, Clarice.”

She smiles and kisses him once, long and sweet, savoring the moment as best she can. When they pull back, she rests her forehead against his, her nose pressed against his.

“You love me?” she asks playfully, her breathe soft against his. John smiles and nods. “Good,” she says and kisses him again. “Because Clarice loves you too. More than Sonya.”

At least for today.

 

 

_Solution:_

_Unknown._


End file.
